like Charlotte could have had any in that bar. Great, you had to go there, Lex!
“There he is!” Montana yells over the music.
A young guy, mid-twenties maybe, walks our way. He has jet-black hair and the same tanned skin as Montana, so I assume they are related. He has a tattoo on the side of his neck which I can’t make out in the dim light.
“Mr. Edwards, this is Jett Black, my one and only brother.”
He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“Montana can’t stop raving on about you,” I say, politely.
“Well, what are baby sisters for? Will you stay and listen to my set?”
“Sure,” I reassure him.
He pats my shoulder before kissing Montana on the cheek. We stand at the bar and have a few drinks. By the fourth, I feel myself relaxing.
“So, Jett is your only brother?” I ask Montana, breaking the code of not allowing myself to get to know any employee on a personal level.
“Yep, and I have three sisters. There’s my older sister, Carolina, then Jett, then my sisters, Dakota and Indiana. They are twins, a little older than me.”
I laugh as I take a sip of my drink. “So how did Jett escape your parents’ patriotic love for naming all their children after US states?”
She giggles, placing her hand on my hand. “I tell you what, Mr. Edwards—”
I interrupt her. “Lex, you can call me Lex.”
What the hell am I doing?
She loses her train of thought for a moment searching my face for something, licking her lips.
Shit, kill me now.
“Well, let me tell you this, Lex. Jett escaped our naming ritual because apparently, he was born with jet-black hair… but the funniest, yet grossest part of the story my father would tell us is that the moment Jett came out, the doctor congratulated my parents and mentioned his thick black hair and quote ‘for a second there I didn’t know if that was his head or your bush, Mrs. Black’… I know, right?” She laughs immensely.
I join her, impossible not to laugh at a ridiculous story like that.
“It was the eighties… bushes were in then. At least that’s what my mother says,” she points out.
Right. Fuck. Are we talking about Montana’s distaste for pubic hair, which can only mean she’s sporting a Brazilian? Rocky would be in fucking heaven if I even mentioned this conversation to him. Seriously, I need to cleanse my thoughts because they are bordering on extremely unhealthy, let alone, inappropriate.
We sit in silence enjoying the music until Montana stands up and pulls my hand with her. “C’mon, Mr. Edwards. Sorry, I mean Lex, let’s dance.”
“Montana, call me Lex, especially in here.”
“So, you’re off duty as my boss, then?”
“I’m off duty as your boss.”
“Then we better dance,” she teases.
She pulls me onto the dance floor and moves her body a little too close to mine. The dance floor is packed, almost everybody crammed into the small area. I try my best to ignore her body mere inches away from mine, but the bourbon is setting in, and I haven’t gotten laid in God knows how long. Your own fault, Edwards.
Jett Black comes on stage, the guitar strumming at a slow beat as he begins to sing a song he wrote, according to Montana. It is called ‘Afraid.’
No one has ever made me feel, the things you make me feel.
Girl when I’m with you I struggle to breath
Your power has a hold of me
And I’m frightened of this spell you cast over me
So I hurt you because I’m frightened.
I push you away because I’m scared.
I do it because I love you
I do it because I hate you
I don’t know how to be with you
Without being afraid of losing you
I listen to the lyrics. It’s spot on to every emotion I have felt the past few months. I’m terrified of losing Charlotte, yet I push her away. Even in our darkest moments, she has a hold over me, and that frightens me, makes me scared to love her the way she deserves to be loved.
Lost in my own pessimistic thoughts, I don’t notice Montana moving in closer. Her body brushes against mine, and I scream at my brain not to let my cock get hard, but being a fucking retarded piece of shit, it does not listen to me. She knows as she continues to put pressure on it, which in turn makes it worse.
I lean in and whisper her ear, “I think I should take you home, Montana.”
Her eyes find mine,